Suck My Duck
by Nixing a Rose
Summary: He doesn't even know my name. "Hey, Craig." Guess he does. Not sure if I want him to know anymore.
1. Chapter 1

**So.  
>I need to delete this but meh I can't.<br>But, please, if you want to read something 'good' by me, check like my two most recent fics. Pretty much the rest of it is shit.  
>Cool.<strong>

**Warning for cursing.  
><strong>

So he's back again.

You would think I'd start off with some sort of grand statement, something completely earth-shattering and just amazing.

But I'm not.

Get over it.

To catch you up on what's been going on since the five years he's been gone, I can say one thing.

Nothing.

Absolutely no fucking thing.

Well, there was, but whatever.

Fuck off.

So he shows up today - in the beginning of the second semester, no less! - hair flat-ironed and wavy and trimmed to perfection.

He looks like a prick.

Albeit a hairy one, but a prick nonetheless.

Not that I've seen another one save for my own.

Fuck my sex life.

His nails are filed. Who the hell files their nails? I mean, I do, but that doesn't count.

Jesus, stop badgering me.

He slips seamlessly back into school, his mini-posse of friends forming and gelling around him. Everyone gives him a "hi" or a "welcome back" as they pass in the hallway. He whispers to his buddies while making a rude gesture concerning the size of Bebe's boobs since they last saw each other.

I sneer.

His friends laugh like he's a mother fucking comedian.

Yup, still a prick.

Slam my locker shut, book bag in place, shoelaces tied, teeth flossed, sleeves brushing against my wrists.

Perfection.

Walk past him and he actually stops. The mother fucker _stops _whatever he was doing and waves to me. Wow, he doesn't even know my name. Fucking ass-

"Hey, Craig."

Guess he does know my name. I don't know if I want him to anymore.

"Hey, Kyle."

_Just keeping walking..._

_**Foot.**_

_Too late..._

And I'm sprawled on the floor, fat-ass' face glaring down at me with a smirk. High-and-mighty bitch.

"Don't talk to him, freak," he threatens. A smile spreads like butter across my face.

"Oh, such a kind little boy you've become. Don't tell me you lost your balls again?" Laughs from behind me. Good, good, the crowd's on my side.

_**Fist.**_

_Too late._

Fuck. Now I've got blood on my favorite jacket.


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN: **_Unfortunately, chapters are still incredibly short at the moment. Really sorry about that. Anyway, please enjoy and drop a review if you feel so inclined.  
><em><strong>Thanks to:<strong>_ Aimee is Awesome, FlyingTackle, rosy2lee2, lizoftheinfinite, Chocobollo, and Flika.

"Fuck, that hurts, bitch!"

"Well _sorry_, Jesus. And don't flick me off!" Wendy glares down at me. I shrug. Not like I was noticing my finger. "God, Craig, don't you think you could stay out of fights for once?"

"Hey!" I object, wincing as the ice smacks against my bruised nose. "Ow, it wun't mah fawlt."

"Uh huh. Just like it wasn't your fault that guy broke your rib when you kissed his girl?"

"I din't know she wuh'nt suhngle." I protested. Goddamn ho, she smirked at me.

"Whatever, Craig." Knock at the door. "Well, I wonder who that could be?"

"May I come in?" a timid voice calls across.

"No shit, Sherlock." I answer. Butters steps in and mashes his fists together. Talk about pussies. "What is it?"

"Uh-uh Kyle says that he well, that he's sorry Cartman was-uh, uh, _ass_!" he said the last word loudly and I watch curiously as he flinches.

"That's nice. Get out. And tell him to grow a pair and come speak to me next time."

"Wuh-will do!" he answers and scurries out, metaphorical tail between his legs.

"Wow, he could be someone's bitch, eh Wends?" I joke, nudging her side. She snaps out of her Butters-induced reverie, but continues to watch the door he exited from.

Right, Wendy likes blondes.

~o~o~

"Kyle... how do you pronounce your last name?"

"Brof-lov-ski."

"Right. Well, sit next to Craig. Craig, raise your hand."

I don't.

She glares.

"Bitch." I mutter, throwing it up in the air.

"Good boy." she ushers Kyle towards me and I stick out my tongue at her. She's lucky that she doesn't piss me off.

The red-head sits next to me and pulls a sheet of paper and a meticulously sharpened pencil out of his bag.

Freak.

It's not like my stuff isn't the same way.

Fuck off.

Something's nudging my arm. A slip of paper, _a note_? Le gasp, who could it be from?

_I'm sorry about yesterday. Cartman's been bitching for a while._

I look at him but he's faced straight forward, as if he really cares about the emotional reasoning behind _Twilight._

_And how do you know this? You've been gone for five years._

I pass it to him and he reads it carefully, scribbling an answer and handing it back.

_Don't. He = ass. Always. Forever. Truce?_

Smile. "Truce"? Who the hell says that?

I do.

Fuck off.

_Whatever. _

A light smile spreads across his face as he reads my answer.

How anticlimactic.


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: **_Chapters are still short. The next update is pretty long. Enjoy, if you may.

"So you're all going to read _New Moon_," a typical groan from the class, "and discuss why or why not Edward should have left Bella." Fuck, I hate when she assigns us "modern" shit.

"What the hell's up with this class?" Kyle whispers to me.

"First, don't curse. You just don't sound right. Second, she believes in the whole 'connecting with students' jazz and wants us to read something we'll like. I, personally, prefer a good Edgar Allen Poe." He waits as if I'm going to say the punch line.

I don't.

His eyes widen.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Spices up my blandness." I shrug and shove (carefully place) my junk (my carefully organized materials) in my bag.

Kyle does the same.

Freak.

~o~o~

I hate math.

With a passion.

The only thing you can memorize are equations and processes and other shit.

There's nothing interesting.

I have a B minus.

Fuck off.

I'd much rather be in chemistry.

Anywhere but math.

"Craig, what is kgqa;rlkja when you wel865WHGW with lkjergleq?"

"Seven."

The teacher stares down her beak-like nose to pin me down with her beady eyes. Oh look, I used big words.

Sorta.

Fuck off.

"Correct." she says, walking on towards her next unsuspecting victim.

I snort. Of course it is. Lucky fucking me.

~o~o~

Lunch sucks as well.

Really bad.

The food isn't even infested with bugs, because they won't go near it. I'd eat my mom's food over this.

And that's saying something.

_Duh-doo-chishhh._

"Craig!" Faceless people wave me over, and I soon realize it's Wendy. And Butters and Kenny.

_Kenny?_

Wendy pats the seat next to her and I sit, my apple and carrots in hand. She returns to her conversation with Butters about some sort of fashion magazine. I would call him a fag, but that's just stupid. He digs chicks.

I think.

"So, Kenny." He arches an eyebrow. "Not with the others?"

"Cartman's been pissy since Kyle came back. Stan is busy pining over Kyle. They're ignoring me again. No point in staying." He shrugs as if this were common knowledge that he would ditch them.

Wow, asshole.

He's looking at me.

How strange.

Perhaps he needs a friend.

"You gonna eat those?" he's pointing at my carrots. I shake my head and give them to him.

Wendy ropes me into her discussion and I join in, willingly or not.

As they start showering me with comments on so-and-so's ass and that him-and-her are pregnant, I can feel Kenny staring at me.

That's not creepy at all.


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: **_The companion fic to this will be posted soon.  
>Thanks to- Parapaxis, rosy2lee2, Aimee is Awesome, MindlesslyStaringAtYou, lizoftheinfinite, and Chocobollo.<br>Love to everyone, and enjoy!

"Well, you and Butters were certainly chatty today." Wendy looks at me like I've grown a third head.

Heh heh, head.

"Yeah, so?" she questions.

"Nothing, nothing." I answer, hands up defensively. She looks me over before realizing what I'm implying.

"I'll bash your mother fucking head in." she threatens, and when she has those dark eyes set on me I can't help but shiver slightly. Damn, she's creepy.

~o~o~

"So how was your day?" I flip her off. She flips me back off.

"Fine."

"I heard the Jewish boy is back."

"Yeah."

"Well, isn't that something?"

"Sure."

"Jesus Craig, do you have to be such an emotionless bitch?" she half-yells.

"Yeah." I answer and trudge up the stairs to my room. She screeches something back up but I ignore her. Bitch.

Actually, I love my mom.

Fuck off.

Flip on the TV and fall on the couch. Any guesses as to what is on? None?

_Law and Order._

Bet you thought it was _Red Racer_, huh? Well, it got canceled. And they didn't put it on DVD. I was a sad sap that month.

~o~o~

_The next day..._

"Er, Cly- Craig! Craig, over here, man!" Stan is waving me over. How strange.

I don't jog/run/sprint over to him; I take a leisurely stroll that _just so happens_ to intersect with his path.

Whatever.

Even I'm not immune to the power of _the_ Stan Marsh.

Fuck off.

"Yes?" my voice comes in an almost hiss. Ooh, I'm fucking Voldemort now, aren't I?

"Oh, uh, Kyle told me that you guys are sitting next to each other in your English language arts class." he says with a smile. His right hand comes behind his neck to scratch his head while his eyes squint. Yes, yes, he can feel my hatred and contempt for his lame ass.

I mean, I don't really hate him, but he's just so _weak_.

Deadpanning, I deliver the final blow.

"And?"

"O-oh, nothing. I just, um, yeah. Would you like his number or something?"

"No." Keep the answers short and sweet.

"But don't you guys uh, need to talk? And stuff?" Jesus Christ on a tricycle.

"No." I just want to get away from this idiot...

He recites the number from memory with no hesitation, scribbling it down on a scrap piece of paper. My God, they must be fucking each other. He hands it to me.

I throw it away on my way out.


	5. Chapter 5

_**AN:**_ If you ever leave your chinchillas with your _best friend_, please tell them they shit. A lot. Thanks.  
><em><strong>Other Notes:<strong>_ Longest chapter! And also the one I feel most uncomfortable about! The slash is being revealed, what you've been waiting for is in the next chapter!  
><em><strong>Poll:<strong>_ What are you here for? Slash? Or just laughs?**_  
><em>**

"Er, are you okay?"

"Like fuck I'm okay! I just got fucking punched in the fucking nose by the fat ass lard-fucker!"

"Dude," I say casually, brushing off his anger like it's nothing. "You lost to Cartman. You're pretty weak."

He doesn't find it funny.

Fuck, I hate comforting people.

"Okay so tell me what happened." I mutter, plopping myself down in a chair next to his bed in the nurse's office. I do _not _want to hear about his girly feelings.

"So, er, Cartman was saying stuff and I got angry and called him something and then he said that I was a Jewb and that I'd be a virgin for the rest of my life because no one wants a red-headed, money-grabbing, whore-ass Jew. And then I called him chubby. And then he sat on me. I spat in his face, and he decked me in the nose." Kyle tenderly presses a finger to his nose and I laugh.

"You called him chubby? Idiot."

"Well, yeah!" he answers defensively. "If you had heard what he'd said you'd call him fat as well!"

"And what did he say?"

"Er..." Kyle scratches his head. I raise an eyebrow. "He was, um, he was talking shit about you. He said you fucked guinea pigs and fought like a pussy. I was defending your honor or... Something."

I'm stunned.

I mean, what.

I fuck guinea pigs?

No, wait, that's not the big problem is it? Kyle... Kyle...

_Defended your honor?_

Oh yeah.

Fuck, now I've say thank you.

"Well, at least I won't have another fight go down on my record." I hear myself say.

_That's not an apology._

Fuck off.

~o~o~

"So are you two... Best friends?" Wendy says in a hushed tone, as if it's some sort of sacred title.

"I guess. I mean, I'd stop someone from shooting him, yeah?" I shrug it off. Kenny's watching me. I offer him a carrot. He accepts. I watch him scarf it down while continuing. "It's not like I asked him to fight Cartman for me."

"Did it ever occur to you that it's a bit strange that 'all of a sudden' a guy that's been gone _five years_ comes back. And that after no talking or anything_ whatsoever_ he's beating people down for you? Do you even know why he left South Park?"

I wince slightly at her words. Though I told her part of what happened five years ago, only me, myself, and my long dead guinea pig know the whole story. "The way I see it, here's some kid that wants to thrash ass for me. As long as I don't have to do anything in return, it's cool with me."

"Ya know, Craig?" Wendy's voice is cold, distant. "Do you know what I think of you sometimes?"

"Do tell." I answer, too busy spinning a grape on the tabletop to look up at her.

And now I'm soaking wet.

Milk.

Ick.

"I think you're a real dick sometimes!" she screams and runs off. Butters glances around at me and Kenny before taking off after her.

_Fuck._

_And this is my other favorite shirt, too._

_~o~o~_

Wendy called her parents and got a ride home. I had to walk from the bus stop back to my house by myself.

I've never felt so lonely.

Fuck her.

~o~o~

"Craig, I think we need to talk." I flip my mom off. "Your father and I are very concerned."

"Why." I don't even bother making it a question. I know mom is the only one who cares. Dad could give a dozen fewer shit.

"Well, we heard about that Broflovski boy getting into a fight over you and we don't think you should be hanging around with him. He's a bad influence."

I'm shocked.

How'd they hear about the fight so quickly?

No, wait, I should be focusing on something else. Kyle... Kyle...

_They don't think you should be hanging around with him._

Oh yeah.

"Mom, do you understand how hypocritical that sounds? Kyle's got a spotless record. The only one who's being a _bad influence_ is me." And with that, I turn on my heel and storm off.

I did _not_ just defend Kyle.

Fuck off.


	6. Chapter 6

_**AN:**_ This was by far the hardest chapter to write. The pacing is wonky and- I dunno. Please read anyways.  
><em><strong>Extra Note:<strong>_ Always thought of Ruby to Craig as Ike is to Kyle.  
><em><strong>Thanks To:<strong>_ rosy2lee2, Salomon Grundy, Chocobollo, Parapaxis, and liithiium for reviewing the last chapter! I now also know what I'll be doing concerning the actual slash. :D

"Craig?"

"What the fuck- Oh, hey Ruby." My little sister stands in the doorway, wringing her wrists with her eyes downcast. Fuck. "Are they fighting again?"

"Yeah." Sighing, I hop off my bed and pull back the covers. Ruby comes forward, crawling into the bed. I clamber in after her, flicking off my bedside lamp. I wrap my long arms around her tiny body, holding her close.

We'll wait this one out together.

~o~o~

I wake up to find Ruby still sleeping in my bed. I had heard little pieces of the argument, but it seemed that she had gotten the full force.

"Craig." My mom's voice wavers as she says my name, tears in her eyes. "C-Craig we..." She couldn't finish the sentence, collapsing to the floor in a sobbing mess.

No.

They're separating.

_No!_

I don't know what I'm going to do.

~o~o~

No one even bothered to ask what was wrong with me.

Wendy is still pissed.

Her and Butters are probably together now, so he's busy ignoring me as well.

Kenny's back to his old table.

Kyle is sick.

The rest of the general populace barely know my name.

I guess I never realized how much I need friends.

~o~o~

"Craig, your father is leaving me."

I laugh.

I don't know why I'm laughing, but I can't stop.

My guffaws echo around the room, engulfing me, strangling me.

I laugh my way up the stairs. I laugh my way into my room. I laugh as I lock the door and begin rolling on the floor.

I can't stop.

I can't breathe.

I'll be the first to actually die laughing.

Lucky me.

I'm laughing 'til I have tears in my eyes.

Then I stop.

I won't cry.

I won't cry.

I won't cry.

I cry.

~o~o~

The door creaks open again tonight.

Ruby's standing in the doorway, clothed in her pink nightgown and clutching her ragged teddy bear in her left hand. I open the covers and she climbs in.

She clings to my bare chest, her stuffed animal now in the crook of her elbow.

"Craig," she murmurs, her warm breath ghosting against my skin, "me and Mr Cuddles are scared." I tug her closer, holding that tiny body and wanting to protect it from any harm.

"I am too, Ruby."

"Who are you going to live with?"

I honestly don't know myself.

"All I know is I'm staying where you are."

"You don't know yourself, do you?" she whispers.

"No. I'm so scared."

~o~o~

As she sleeps, I glance down at her and am captivated by her bear's one eye.

It's dark, soulless, and completely uncaring. But somewhere in there is understanding.

Call me pathetic, but the most comfort I've gotten all day has been from a plushy.

I feel so alone.

~o~o~

"Hey, man, are you okay?" I look up from my paper.

"Yeah. Whatever."

"You've been on the same question for the past twenty minutes. You usually get the whole test done in twelve minutes. What's up?" Kyle has a hand on my back, as if we're motherfucking best friends.

The bell rings and everyone files out. The teacher is asleep at her desk and jerks awake, mumbling something about doughnuts and da Vinci.

Kyle follows me out and keeps pestering me. I know we don't have the same next class so Mr Popular-'n-Perfect is going to leave me.

He doesn't.

I think there should be some sort of emotional connection there.

There isn't.

I detour into the bathroom, knowing that I won't be able to shake him off. Once Kyle sets his mind on something, he's going to see through to it. I sit on a sink and he stands.

"Tell me."

"Dad's getting a divorce. He was cheating. Might be moving wherever the hell mom plans."

Kyle stands there.

"Dude..."

"You see, I thought I'd be more depressed about this. But I'm not. I no longer have anyone here who will even _talk_ to me, let alone miss me."

"I would." Kyle says quietly. He's staring at the ground.

Honestly, I don't understand what's so fascinating about it.

And then I realize how familiar this scene is.

_Five years ago in a bathroom in a junior high-_

I don't want to remember it.

I hop off the counter and head towards the exit.

"Craig..."

"It's nothing. Glad I could have an open-heart with you."

"Craig." I stop mid-way through opening the door and turn around. The door swings closed and Kyle is _right fucking there_, staring at me with those brown eyes.

They're so brown and he kisses me.

That's right. I just got my fifth male-on-male lip lock with the exact same guy that was my first.

Funny how things come full circle.

And, not knowing what to do, I stand stock still like those five years ago.

He backs off and breathes, staring at me as if to judge my reaction.

I stand there.

He takes the hint.

Walking out, he doesn't so much as look at me.

And when the door shuts, I can only think of one thing.

He tastes like ginger.

How ironic.


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN:**_ I like squares, roller-ball pens, and my computer. Sue me.  
><em><strong>Thanks To:<strong>_ rosy2lee2, Yaythe1st, Parapaxis, backass, Chocobollo, and MindlesslyStaringAtYou. You guys rock!  
><em>Tinsly: have my babies. I love how you helped me with this. We should have penguin behbehs.<br>**EDIT:**_ Major change to the confrontation with his dad. If you're just reading this now, then don't worry about it. (:_  
><em>

My heart aches.

I don't think its ever hurt this much.

My chest is constricting and I feel as if I slowly suffocating.

What a strange sensation.

I wonder what could have caused this.

I can't breathe.

Maybe I'll die-

_Knock_.

"Come in."

Dad is standing in my room, fidgeting. Why does he have the right to fidget?

"Craig... I-I'm sorry." I stay quiet. "You have to understand..." I stay quiet. "Answer me, young man. I am still your _father_."

"No." This man standing in front of me, he isn't my father. I no longer have a father. He died when he was fucking some bimbo senseless in some dodgy hotel. "You're not my father."

"Craig..."

"_You're not my father!_" I hiss.

And I slap him.

He's shocked.

Serves the bastard right.

"I-I'm sorry-" he splutters, holding his cheek.

"That's not good enough."

"Let me-"

"Get out."

"Craig-"

"_Get out!_" I throw the family picture I have of us and it nicks a cut on his forehead. The picture falls to the floor and shatters.

That's my family.

Visible, but untouchable behind the glass.

And now it's cracked.

Because of him.

~o~o~

"Craig, if you had Alice's power, would you be regretful?"

"I..." My mouth runs dry. _Would I want to know what would happen?_

_Then you could have prepared yourself for your father's betrayal._

_But maybe then you would have a jaded eye towards everything, resulting in years of nothing but arguments and fights. _

_Would you trade knowledge for peace?_

"I..."

"You don't have to answer, Craig. But it's a good one to mule over, yeah? Now, Georgina..."

~o~o~

_Would you trade knowledge for peace?_

If I had known that Kyle would have left those years back, would I have been angry?

Probably. In my immaturity, I would have blamed him and anything else. _I would have thought he was every bad word under the sun._

But do I still feel like that?

_It wasn't his choice to leave._

_Like it wasn't father's choice to cheat? What a pack of lies._

Maybe I haven't matured at all.

_I wonder what mother would think._

"Craig?" I swing my eyes up to the person addressing me.

"Butters?"

"I, uh, well, uhm... Are you okay?"

"What."

"Well, I mean, well, golly, you've been looking pretty darn emo for the past few days. And we haven't talked in Lordy knows how long..."

"Butters."

"Wuh, yeah?"

"You don't... Hate me?"

"Hate you?" he asks. His eyes are bulging out as if this is the most absurd things he has ever heard. "Why would I hate you?"

Now it's my turn to be confused. "You're together with Wendy," he doesn't deny this but merely blushes furiously, "and she hates me."

"Okay, no offense, Craig, but are you that much of an ass that you think I'm Wendy's bitch?" I shrug and nod. "I'm not."

"Okay."

"If you went to her and apologized, she'd come back. She's just waiting for you to say sorry."

"Butters."

"Yeah."

"I love you, man."

"Aw, shucks. You don't mean that."

~o~o~

"I'm sorry."

I don't know what to say to him. The dumb card always works.

"For what?"

"For kissing you." I flinch. Jeez, he's so blunt.

"Hey, it's no biggie, yeah? As long as - er - it doesn't happen again." When did my shirt collar get so tight? Kyle looks deep into my eyes with his creepy ass ones and I swear to god I almost lose my bowels in my pants.

"Yeah, I guess." We both give nods, and then - in a manly way! - hug.

Because that's what guy friends - who are not attracted to each other in any way - handle conflicts.

Yeah.

In fact, we're so not attracted to each other that we end up kissing.

Goddammit.


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN:**_ I'm so fucking sorry. Next chapter is the last. ):  
><em><strong>Thanks to:<strong>_ rosy2lee2, Alice in the Land of Fiction, Chocobollo, TweekTweak xD, Parapaxis, MindlesslyStaringAtYou, Bitches Love Reno, and lizoftheinfinite.  
><em><strong>Notes:<strong>_ Set about a week later.

"Okay, look, we gotta talk."

"I don't see what about." I mutter. Kyle huffs and runs a hand through his hair. Did I ever mention he has real nice hair?

Well, he does.

But not in a gay way.

Fuck off.

"The project that you've been so casually blowing off, your family, my problems, _this._" He gestures between us.

"You have problems?"

"_Craig_!"

"Fine, fine." I mutter. Goddammit. Bloody Jew. "The 'project' that you're so concerned about is nothing more than writing what we have enjoyed about this class. You just make up a bunch of shit.

"My family is fine, thank you very much. That man and his stripper woman are engaged now or something.

"I don't really know very much about your problems. Other than that ginormous oak up your ass."

"Ha ha, very funny. No really, hilarious."

"I try."

~o~o~

The climate in my house is nice, now.

Mother has begun coming out of her shell and she _smiles_ a whole lot more.

And she's been making a shit load of cookies.

And they don't taste like shit, as a matter of fact.

Because of this, I have formulated a hypothesis. My theory is that my mother hid her _amazing_ cooking skills and instead made food that could kill a horse as she tried to - indiscreetly - poison my father.

Wouldn't surprise me.

Ruby seems a lot more nervous, but she's happy, I guess. She hasn't come into my bed since dad left, which is pretty flabbergasting.

Heh, I like that word.

"How was school today?"

"Pretty good. The project is due by the end of the week. Kyle is freaking out, but I keep telling him it'll be fine." Mom nods thoughtfully and smiles at me. I smile back.

And then I flick her off.

And she flicks me off right back.

_Ah, tranquility in the home..._

~o~o~

Kyle actually came and sat at my table today.

I swear my brain just imploded.

Wendy, however, was not amused.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here, Broflovski?"

Kyle looked surprised, but didn't back down. "I'm here to eat lunch. With my _friends_." Wendy scrutinized him before seemingly deeming him acceptable. She nodded towards the seat next to mine, and he sat down.

And he _smiled_.

Everyone keeps _smiling_.

It's getting fucking creepy.

~o~o~

Wendy says she can't walk home with me today because "I have... Stuff... With Butters...". I just shrugged casually and nodded.

Wiping my feet on the doorstep, I fish my key out of my pocket and unlock the deadbolt. I swing open the door and find that the house is dark.

How str-

"Happy birthday, Craig!" a crowd of people screech.

Fuck, that's a lot of streamers.

I forgot it was my birthday.

Well, fuck me with a cactus.

I smile at all of them: Wendy, Butters, Kyle, Kenny, Mom, Ruby, and Dad.

Hey, I might not have a lot of friends, but Kyle's rich so I'm not too worried.

"C'mon, come look at your fucking cake, bitch!" Everyone laughs good-heartedly at Ruby as she drags me into the kitchen. I follow after her and, though I'll never admit it, grin.

Fuck off.

~o~o~

After a delicious vanilla cake - Mom fiercely denies baking it - everyone gathers around in the living room for me to open my presents.

I feel like a five year old.

Fuck off.

So, here's a list of what everyone brought me:

Mom - a new hat. Gotta love her for that.  
>Ruby - a notebook covered in guinea pigs. I swear that she has no class.<br>Dad - a pair of shoes. They're comfy.  
>Wendy - a free homework pass for math. Sweet.<br>Butters - a picture of me. That kid...  
>Kenny - a condom. Asshole.<p>

But, I gotta say, Kyle's was the best. Him being a rich bitch and all, I was expecting a fancy watch or some other nonsensical doo-dah that I'd forget about.

Alas, I was wrong.

So very, _very_ wrong.

He got me a box set of _Red Racer_.

As I tore the wrapping off, my jaw fell suspiciously close to the floor: as did most everyone else.

Even now, I still don't...

I almost jumped his bones right then and there, but I restrained myself and smiled at him, thanking him profusely.

After all, I feel no attraction to him.

None.

Fuck off.

Now everyone is dancing to some weird music that Butters brought along with him and having a jolly old time. I, however, have a much more pressing matter on my hands.

Gesturing to Kyle, I lead him up to my room.

Closing and locking the door, I turn to him.

"You..." I say. He raises an eyebrow. "Just..."

He smiles.

And kisses me.

"Happy birthday, Craig."


	9. Ending

_**AN:**_ And so, it's over.  
>After <em>two months<em>, sorry 'bout that.  
>God, it was probably one of the best fucking runs I have ever had. I love you guys.<br>_**Thanks to:**_ Parapaxis, lizoftheinfinite, Anon, Mrs FTTMC (Sorry, your name got blocked by ff. D:), Chocobollo, and rosy2lee2. I'm so sad that this is the last time I bring you SMD Cryle goodness! But there will be more... ;D  
>Some quick stats, a preview for the next Cryle story, and a little SMD!verse bit for ya'll. <em>Oh yeahhh~<em>  
><em><strong>Special Thanks:<strong>_  
>-<strong>Chocobollo:<strong> You reviewed _every single chapter,_ dude. PM me details and I'll write you a free one-shot.  
>-<strong>lizoftheinfinite:<strong> You missed one. Just _one_. But, fuck, I love you my e-buddy. I'll trade stories with you any day. Thank you so much for everything you have said; you made my story so much better.  
>-<strong>rosy2lee2:<strong> You missed one as well. :C Still, dude, your words of encouragement helped me so much. Story trades are totally cool with me, man.

.

"All right, I'm handing back your assignments." Next to me, Kyle stiffens. I squeeze his hand gently and make a grotesque face. He laughs. "Broflovski and Tucker." The teacher is standing right in front of us, glaring pointedly at our hands.

They don't separate.

After a beat of silence, she picks back up where she left off, as if she hadn't seen anything. "Actually, these two are the only that can laugh, considering the rest of your grades..."

Kyle drops his head and nudges my side with it. "I shouldn't have doubted your ability to bullshit." he says. I grin.

Eh, fuck off.

~o~o~

Kenny sits to my left and makes a weird face at Wendy, who is currently feeding Butters a grape. Scrunching up his nose, he turns to me and Kyle. "Don't tell me you guys are going to end up like that."

"No. Never."

"Thank god," he sighs. "Anyway, there was this sweet piece of ass at the corner of the gas station-"

"I'm pretty sure she's a prostitute," Kyle says. Kenny flicks him off.

"Before this ass interrupted me, I gotta tell you, she was pretty damn sexy..."

~o~o~

"I'm sorry."

"Like fuck you are."

"No, really. I messed up big time." My father is pleading with me to understand.

"Why would you do that?"

"It wasn't-" He grasps for words, searching for what to say. "It wasn't there anymore."

"You fucking _work things out_. That's what you agreed to when you got married." I feel as if I'm explaining a basic concept to a child.

"When we got married, we did it to raise a child. There wasn't any basis in love or trust. We did it out of convenience." Dad's face is grim as he speaks.

I storm past him and out of the house, whipping out my cellphone as I go. Automatically dialing a number I know by heart, he answers on the first ring.

"_I'll be right over._"

~o~o~

Groggily, I slowly rub my eyes. The room I'm in slowly begins to shift into focus. Mental functions start up and-

_I'm naked!_

Indeed I am-

I'm naked! Throwing off the covers, I hobble around in search for my clothes in a pristine room that I vaguely recognize. The door opens and I freeze, instantly grabbing a comforter and grabbing it around my... Parts.

"Dude, it's just me." Kyle smiles easily.

My eyes narrow. "All the more reason to cover up. Where am I?"

"My house, dipshit. You were crying, you called, I picked you up, we fucked." _That explains the pain in my ass._

"Right," I mutter and flop onto his bed. He lays down next to me, and out of the corner of my eye I can see him staring at me. "What?"

"I love you."

A cold feeling seeps into my bones, making my heart skip a beat and my chest to constrict and the world freezes and-

"I love you too, man."

And everything is better.

~o~o~

In the end, everything works out, I guess.

Kyle is still my boyf- er, I don't know, to be honest. We just sort of are. None of those bullshit butterflies for us manly men. No sirree.

Kenny's a dickface, still. He did end up hooking up with that hooker. Her name's Sparkle.

Wendy and Butters are going strong. They actually _kissed_, and _Butters_ - god bless him - made the first move. Wendy was positively glowing the whole day.

Stan gives me a weird look whenever he sees me with Kyle. Fucking hippie.

Dad... He's a touchy subject. He and Whore are married, and she's pregnant. I can't really blame her, I guess. We're on barely-speaking terms, but... Kyle keeps telling me we need to 'bond'.

My life, it works for me. Honestly, I don't know what other choice there is, but whatever.

If you don't like it, well...

You can suck my duck.

_THE FUCKING END._


	10. Epilogue

**_AN:_** Alright. Facts, a preview, and an extra piece for SMD. This is it guys. This is the absolute finish, and I'm only posting the sappy crap at the end because, like, I owe it to you. Thanks for being there, dudes.

_Some facts:_

-7090 words. (ANs included.)

-Started: April 24, 2011.

-Finished: August 10, 2011.

-An average of 5.5 reviews per chapter.

-Chapters 3, 5, 6, and 7 all have the exact number of reviews as their chapter numbers.

-This not-really-a-plot was formed at three in the morning while I was guzzling cranberry juice with a hint of lime.

-Chapter 5 was written before anything else.

-The songs _Animal _and _Your Surrender_ by _Neon Trees_ are probably the best songs to listen to while writing gay shit. Trolololol.

**AS PROMISED, A PREVIEW OF MY NEXT CRYLE STORY.**

_Oh Say Can Jew Sea? (Title in progress.)_  
><em>A stupid story about a boring teenager and a stone that just so happens to be a redheaded male. AU. KyleCraig.  
><em>

Craig was half sure he hated his life.

Being totally sure required conviction, which required feelings, which required effort. Of course: halving it didn't eliminate any energy spent, but it cut down on it. Surely such savings in his stores of energy would help him later.

If he could be assed to do anything later.

"Craig, we're going to the beach," his mom had said. Well, whoop dee freaking doo. He fucking hated the beach. Kids and sand in his dick and _heat_. He fucking _loathed_ heat.

He loathed _vacations_ as well. Of course, his mother had decided to combine the two and drag him and his sister to the coast.

"I hate the beach, mom," he had half-complained because fully-complaining required effort and- haven't we already been through this?

She merely shrugged. "It's either St. Broflovski's or talking with your father over the phone about how many ladies you're reeling in with your 'stunning' looks."

Craig actually considered it for a second.

Not.

Sure, he might be a bit strange, in totally boring way. But he didn't want his death certificate to say 'death by out-of-touch father as he speaks over the phone about baseball and getting girls pregnant'.

And so here he was, collecting shells on St. Broflovski shore. (Seriously, where the fuck did they get that name? Did they run out of shitty names for saints and just letter-barf onto a sign? Jeez.)

An orange stone caught his eye as he built his sandfort (because he wasn't a fucking princess, dickface). It was a smooth oval shape with streaks of red running throughout, and if he tilted it _just right_, it was as if they were actually _veins_ pumping with blood. It was the kind of superior cool that transcended even overdosing on cough syrup or someone dying while having sex.

Doing something spontaneous for once in his life, Craig pocketed it.

And so began the beginning of the end.

God, save us.

**AND THE FINAL PIECE FOR OUR TWO BOYS:**

"You could straighten your hair, asshat."

"Fuck you. I could straighten your dick with a goddamn iron."

"I'd like to see you-"

Kyle's hands pressed the bickering male's chest and pushed them apart. Kenny McKormick and Eric Cartman glared up at the ginger from their new-found places a few inches farther away from each-other's faces.

"The fuck was that for, Jew?"

"Yeah, the fuck?"

"Goddammit you two," Kyle huffed, massaging his temples. "This is _my_ big fucking day. Could you lay off for a bit?"

"I knew you were the bitch," Cartman muttered, glaring at him. "Like Craig would ever get fucked up the ass."

"Cartman, are you fucking retarded? Of course Kyle tops! Craig is an emo pussy!" Kenny snarked, pulling his now shoulder-length blonde hair into a ponytail with a hair-tie on his wrist. Cartman merely snorted.

"Yeah? Fifty bucks says Kyle gets rammed."

"Fine, then. Fifty bucks on Craig packing."

They shook hands and walked out.

Kyle blushed furiously, running his jittery hands down his jacket. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea-

"Kyle, stop worrying and get the fuck out here!"

Sparing a last glance in the mirror, the man nodded and ran after his two friends as best as he could in his high heels.

~o~o~

Butters smiled softly, scrunching the fabric of his dress in his sweating palms. Turning to his girlfriend, he relaxed slightly. And then he spotted it.

"Wendy."

"Yes, Butters?" she asked, all calm and smooth and _Wendy_.

"There's uh, there's a piece of lint on your tuxedo. Ah- on your shoulder." He reached his pale hand up and plucked it off, tossing it to the side.

"Thanks, Butters," Wendy said, bending down to give him a quick peck on his cheek.

He flushed a deep red, pulling at the straps of his yellow sundress.

~o~o~

Craig hated weddings.

God, did he.

And, somehow, he was now marrying his boyf- uh... Fiance. That was weird, to think that they were _engaged_.

He ruffled the skirt of his dress. Severe kudos had to go to his _fiance _Kyle for designing the wardrobe for the wedding. (God, the guy was gayer than Ryan Seacrest.)

The form fitting tuxedo jacket as a top, and half a bride's dress as a bottom.

Genius?

No.

Annoying?

Supremely.

Craig had a fucking wedgie and he hadn't shaved his legs. Kyle hated when he didn't shave his legs.

But it was _Craig's_ special day, dammit. He could have hairy legs if he wanted.

Snorting softly, he scurried out as the organ music began to play. (Fuck, he hated organs. They were just old pianos that made deep-ass sounds and shit.) Kyle entered from the opposite side, wearing the exact opposite of Craig: a sleeveless top-half of a wedding gown and suit pants.

They hooked elbows, smiling softly and walking down the aisle to stand amoung their groomsmen and groomswoman. The men seemed to be enjoying their dresses, while Wendy seemed to like her tux.

Stan smiled from his stand, an erotic novel open in his hand.

"So," he began, flashing his grin across the room so that everyone could see its holy brightness. "You guys are in a wedding."

"No shit," Craig growled.

"Good enough for me," Stan said, clapping the book shut. "I now pronounce you Craig and Kyle. Kiss or something."

And they did.

~o~o~

"You owe me fifty bucks, fat shit."

"He _rode him_. Clearly, this means he topped. But I'll let you slide on this one, and I won't rub my victory in your face.

"God, you suck."

"Yeah? Well you can _suck my duck_."

_fin._


End file.
